


Drunken Catastrophes

by justreaderr



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Not nice!Bard, Very Dubious Consent, i don't know what i was thinking, not my native language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justreaderr/pseuds/justreaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unconsciously he crossed his legs to hide his stiff length better.<br/>Yet the elf must have noticed something in his behaviour since he stopped his monolog and eyed Bard worryingly. “Is everything all right, Master Bard. Maybe you had too much wine. My wine is strong and I do not know how much of it is too much for a mortal.”<br/>To prove the opposite Bard emptied his glass again and held it out for another refill, “Don’t worry your pretty head, this mortal can handle his drinks.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Catastrophes

Drunken catastrophes

Bard wrung his hands nervously for a moment; then he approached the large tent the elves had set up on the highest place in the city of Dale; the tent of the Elvenking.

Three days had passed since the battle of the five armies and it was time for the man to speak to the king of elves. His people would need more support from the elves, food but also tools, medicine and a lot more. And he knew he could get it, after all he had received those starlight gems the king desired so much. He would trade them for Thranduil’s aid.

The guard standing in front of the tent opening eyed him distrustful but let him pass without any problems. So Bard entered and his eyes found the Elvenking’s form. He stood on the other side of the tent, his eyes focussed on the wine he was pouring into his glass. He did not acknowledged the man, as he entered and so Bard waited.

Without his consent his eyes started wandering; tracing the elf’s body from his pale blond hair, down his slender shoulders and narrow hips to his long elegant legs. It was quite easy to follow the lines of his body through his light tunic, tight leggings and dark boots. Gone were his elaborate robes and his shining armour.

Everything about him spoke of a time of relaxing, not of negotiating. The blond elf surly had not expected his coming. Otherwise he would have put a lot more effort in his appearance. Clad in simple clothing he didn’t even looked quite so threatening and kingly, as he had the other times Bard had seen him.

“Master Bard” Thranduil murmured quietly as he turned around and his bright blue eyes found Bard's. “Is there a reason why you are interrupting my evening?”

“Aye” the man answered dryly and he had to keep his eyes from trailing down Thranduil’s front least the elf would notice his indecent attention. “I’m here to speak with you on a deal. My people will require more aid if we are to make it through the winter. Sure, the dwarves have agreed to give us the gold promised, but until spring arrives we won’t be able to do much with it. We need more supplies.”

Thranduil blinked slowly “So you want me to empty my storages even more for you. I understand your need, bowman, but my goodwill only reaches so far and I will not have my people suffer for it. There is nothing you can give me in return, save for gold in which I have no interest.”

“You misunderstand me, my lord; I do not plan to rely on your goodwill any longer. You do not desire gold, this I know, but I have something to offer to you. Something I believe you do desire most keenly. I have a deal for you. You will supply us for the winter and in return you will receive the starlight gems you desire.”

As expected the elf’s eyes grew wide. “You hold them?”

“Indeed I do. Dain gave them to me, when I asked for them. I thought they would be a good way to repay you for your help, since they appear dear to you and you have no way to demand them for yourself.”

Thranduil signed quietly and lowered his eyes. The moment Thranduil’s eyes left Bard’s his started their travel over the Elvenking’s body. It was not hard to admit that the elf was a great beauty, even though he was male. Bard was no stranger to loveless lust, no one had been able to touch his heard after his beloved wife’s death, but that didn’t mean that the bargeman was chaste. There were quite a few lonely widows who were more than ready to let him bed them for some sweet words or a few coins.

“You are right. I am willing to forget what you owe me and supply your people for this winter, if I receive them in return.” The Elvenking broke his train of thoughts.

A smile broke across Bards face when he heard this and was glad that his gamble had payed of. With one strike he had managed to get rid of Dale’s debt and gain the needed supplies. “Then we have a deal.”

“We have a deal. In the morning I will send one of my riders back to my halls to give orders to start packing supplies for Dale.”

“You have my thanks, my lord. I will hand over your gems once they have reached our city.” Bard promised and turned to leave. It would not do to spend any more time near the elf as his cock started straining against his trousers only hidden from view by his long coat.

“Will you stay for a little bit and drink with me on this?” the Elvenking asked calmly and quite obviously to Bard’s less than pure thoughts of him.

The bargeman hesitated undecided. On one hand he wished to return home to touch himself to get rid of his hardness or see if he could find someone to do it for him, on the other hand the thought of sampling a glass or two of Thranduil’s delicious wine and observing the elf a bit more was tempting.

It was unlikely that he would find a woman willing to let him bed her without a tavern to go to, so he decided it was only logical to stay and watch the pretty elf some more for inspiration. After all nobody could see his thoughts, so no one would know he was thinking improper thoughts about another man. Besides no matter how powerful a warrior the elf was, his looks were more those of a woman anyway.

He nodded and took the glass offered to him. He nipped on the strong, sweet beverage and followed Thranduil into the back of the tent, separated from the front by a thick blanket.

Here one chair stood which was covered by Thranduil’s robes and the elf’s resting place for the night, also a small desk was present. Bard’s eyes landed on the low bed for a moment thoughtful then scanned the rest. The Elvenking’s armour and weapons also rested here which was a little bit unsettling as Bard recalled the king’s talent and deadly grace with his swords.

Thranduil removed his robes from the chair and placed them carefully across his desk before offering the chair to Bard and settled himself against his desk.

“Tell me, Bowman, how fares your family. I hope I am not keeping you from them.”

“They have settled well enough in the house Sigrid has chosen for us, but they were already sleeping when I left to come speaking with you, so they won’t even notice my absence.” Was Bard’s answer and he emptied his glass. He had little interest in discussing his children when his goal for the night was to get as much pleasure from his thoughts as possible. Thinking of his children was not conductive to this goal. He offered his glass and the king filled it again with the intoxicating liquor.

He could feel how a warm feeling started to spread from his stomach to his arms and legs and he started to relax. Whatever wine it was the Elvenking favoured, it was strong. “Tell me, king of elves, how your elves fare now that the battle has been won.”

Thranduil started speaking but Bard was not really interested in what he had to tell. His eyes followed the Elvenking’s soft looking lips as they formed word after word and he wondered how they would feel under his own, or even better wrapped around his arching length.

The thought of the beautiful elf on his knees in front of him shot through his entire body and hardened his cock even more and he had to drown a soft moan with more wine. Unconsciously he crossed his legs to hide his stiff length better.

Yet the elf must have noticed something change in his behaviour since he stopped his monolog and eyed Bard worryingly. “Is everything all right, Master Bard. Maybe you had too much wine. My wine is strong and I do not know how much of it is too much for a mortal.”

To prove the opposite Bard emptied his glass again and held it out for another refill, “Don’t worry your pretty head, this mortal can handle his drinks."

The Elvenking blinked confused and Bard could only thing how adorable he looked, as he crocked his head to the side and eyed him stunned. It took the man a moment to notice what it was exactly that he had said.  
Then he realized he called the elf pretty but could not bring himself to care. “What? Surly you did not believe Dain to be the only one to recognise your beauty.”

“I think you’ve had enough” Thranduil replied and he took the glass from Bard “It is time for you to return to your children and sleep of your inebriation. I apologise for this oversight on my part, we will speak again tomorrow.”

The bowman rose to his feet and nearly overbalanced and would surly have fallen face first on Thranduil’s bed had the elf not stepped forward and caught him around the middle.

Bard inhaled sharply and the scent of the elf entered his nose. Thranduil smelled of trees and wild flowers mingled with the smell of wine. The most alluring scent the bowman could imagine in that very moment. But the moment his legs would carry him safely the Elvenking stepped back and took with him his unique smell.

He took a few deep breaths which cleared some of the alcohol from his mind and turned towards Thranduil. His eyes wandered freely over the other and catalogued everything; his shining eyes, his ripe lips, his flawless skin and his delicate body.

An all-consuming want spread through his entire being, leaving behind nothing but the thought of possessing this ethereal creature. He stepped forward his first step a little shaky, but then he regained the full use of his body, not nearly as drunken as the Elvenking believed him to be.

The elf meanwhile eyed him uncertain obviously unsure what to do with a drunken man. As Bard stepped forward he reached for him, trying to stable him. Yet his attempt to help was ignored instead the man gripped his arms hard and toppled them over onto the bed.

Bard moaned happily as they went down and he came to rest on top of the elf. Absentminded he noticed Thranduil’s attempts to extract himself from beneath, to help the man back on his feet after he so obviously lost his balance, but he ignored it. His focus was entirely on the slender body writhing beneath him and the enticing smell of said body.

Contend he placed his lips on the others skin. He kissed, licked and nipped along the elf’s hairless cheeks trying to catch those inviting lips. But the Elvenking kept turning his head much to his annoyance and tried to roll Bard over.

The man growled angrily and grounded his hard erection into the soft body beneath. This caused the elf to freeze momentarily only to start squirming in earnest and inadvertently rubbing himself against Bard.  
Thranduil was not sure how to deal with this man. It was quite obviously that he was drunk out of his mind and lost - in typically human clumsiness - his footing and brought the Elvenking down with him. But no matter how hard he tried to help him up, Bard seemed to be quite contempt to lie on top of him, like a bag of potatoes; A rather heavy bag of potatoes at that.

Also the elf could not quite process why he kept trying to press his lips to his own. Yet when he felt the other grinding his hard length against him he suddenly understood. This was not human clumsiness, this was human lecherousness.

He needed to get out from underneath this man, and he needed to do so fast. He struggled against Bard’s deadweight, but could not dislodge him without fighting him and without risking causing him injury, the knife on his belt weighted heavily against his side encouraging him, to use it in an attempt to rid himself of the man. Yet he could not do that after all it was his own fault that the man was drunk beyond recognising his doings. Also he noticed that each of his movements seemed to only encourage Bard more, so he stopped his movements entirely. He had heard that drunken man often lost their consciousness, maybe he was lucky and this would happen now as well.

The man was content for the moment with rubbing against a warm trembling body and kissing the long inviting neck, when the elf suddenly stopped responding. His movements had brought him pleasure, but now he felt more as if he was rubbing against a pillow and not another living thing. He was no dog, he would not find his release like this.

Bard dragged his own body higher, to catch a glimpse of Thranduil’s face, yet the elf was not paying any attention to him, and instead he was starring seemingly unseeing against the fabric of his tent.  
Was the king not enjoying this? Well, the bowman didn’t care; if the elf was content with being used for another’s pleasure who was he to complain; at least he would not have to worry about bringing him some amount of pleasure, too.

Without further ado his hand went to lower his own trousers and he kicked them away. Without the rough material entrapping his cock he felt quite relieved already, but that was nothing compared to the relieve he hoped to find in this beautiful body beneath him. But the elf was still far too covered up for Bard’s taste, so he rose on his knees and started to remove his tunic.

Yet the moment his full weight left Thranduils body, the elf started moving again, but not to reach for Bard or anything like this, but to roll over and to crawl away. This was not what the man had in mind, he was not yet done. One of his hands entangled itself in those soft, long, blond locks and ripped him back under him.  
The entire slender body bowed as Bard pulled the king’s head back and lowered his own body back over the elf. His grip in his hair allowed him to pull him into a much better position to fulfil his desire as he forced the kneeling elf’s head back down onto the bedding.

All the while his other hand remained not idle. After stabilising himself the hand creeped along the finely muscled torso until he reached the edge of the other’s leggings. But before he could pull them down to reveal the Elvenking’s tight rear a hand locked around his wrist and forced him to stop.

What sort of game was this elf playing? First he played along, then he was willing to let him have his way with his body and now he tried to stop him. The hand in his hair twisted cruelly and forced a pained hiss from Thranduil.

“I will have you, elf” Bard growled darkly. “I will have you, so stop trying to keep me from your body.”

Thranduil had reached his wits’ end. What was he supposed to do? He could not let him continue but he could not stop him from this unfortunate position either. Should he call for his guards, they would come for him, but he was not particular keen on them seeing him in such a position, also they might overreact and kill Bard. Why did he invite the man to drink with him? Had he not gotten him drunk, all this would have never happened.

His thoughts wandered back to his knife, maybe if he were to injure the man, maybe then he would snap out of his drunken haze. Yet that would mean he would have to attack someone who was innocent to his actions and humans were so fragile even a little injury could easily become fatal and out of this position his reach and control were severely hindered. He could inadvertently kill the man.

The remaining option would be, to let Bard have him. The Elvenking swallowed hard when, as if in response to his thoughts, the bowman grinded his length against his behind. He could take the man within himself; he was by no means a stranger to this sort of pastime. Even though he preferred elves and did not expect much pleasure out of this encounter, he could do it.

That was to say, he would have to get the man to prepare him at least a little bit. This was a tent for war and he had no oil with him. His thoughts raced as he struggled with the impatient dragonslayer to keep his hand away from his waistband. He had some athelas-cream for his burns. That would have to do and it would smooth whatever hurt the addled bowman would inflicted upon him.

His quick decision made he responded to Bard’s statement “You may have me, bowman, but not like this, I’m no woman and my body can’t take you without some preparation.”

Bard stopped when the Elvenking spoke to him. He could have seen this coming. His eyes followed Thranduil’s directions and he found a small pot on the stool next to the bed. Some cream he could use. His hand stopped trying to pull down the elf’s leggings for a moment and when his wrist was given free he took the pot.

Without letting go of Thranduil’s hair he opened it. Then he reached again for the elf’s trousers and this time he was allowed to continue. He would have loved to sit back and look, but he did not quite trust the king to not change his mind again, so he only mapped the smooth surface with his hand, until he found the small opening he wished to bury his cock in.

Yet when he touched him there the elf bristled and his hand locked around his wrist again.

“Use the cream” he ordered with an annoyed growl and Bard hurriedly smeared his fingers with the flowery smelling cream and brought them back. He circled the hole for a bit, before pushing a single finger in. The feeling of hot tightness surrounded his finger and he groaned deeply in his throat. Forcefully he trusted a few time into the elf, before he gathered more cream and pressed a second finger in.

Thranduil gasped in shock, but forced his body to relax against the inexperienced fumbling. At least the drunken human had enough remaining wits to realize that more cream made his attempts less painful. Yet he had to stop that overeager dragonslayer again, to tell him to cover his organ in cream as well.

Bard rubbed his throbbing length to spread the cream and relieve some of his urgent need. Then he positioned himself against the inviting hole and pushed in. He had to bite down on his own lip to keep from groaning loudly in ecstasy, as his length was swallowed and tightly gripped by Thranduil’s heated channel. It took nearly every last bit of his control to keep himself from spilling then and there.

He took a few deep breaths before he risked moving. The elf beneath him kept completely still and Bard knew that the other took absolutely no pleasure from this act, but he could not bring himself to care when his own orgasm was swiftly approaching. After two more swift thrusts he emptied himself into the blond elf and collapsed on top of him, forcing him flat on his bedding.

But Thranduil did not give him time to recover his bearings; instead he bucked him off and dragged himself out from under Bard. Then he pulled up his laggings and vanished faster than the drowsy human could look. With a last satisfied yawn he closed his eyes and dosed of, uncaring what consequences the next day might bring.


End file.
